


War Wounds

by FlashBastard



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Healing, M/M, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 06:57:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20305321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlashBastard/pseuds/FlashBastard
Summary: Crowley tries to rescue a village of children and gets hurt in the process





	War Wounds

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is set during the Vietnam War.

There were a lot of things that Crowley greatly disliked but there wasn't very much that he genuinely hated. The list of things that he absolutely despised with the fiery passion of a thousand burning suns could be counted on one hand. Hastur hadn't even made it onto that list. Yes, he was an irritating fuck but Crowley couldn't say he legitimately hated him.

One of the things that did manage to make it onto his list of seriously hated things was war. He hated war. Hated the unnecessary death, the absolute destruction. Some amazingly beautiful art was gone for eternity because of war. And no amount of rebuilding would bring it back to the way it had been before. It never was the same. But men always found a way to start wars. They always found stupid reasons.

"The only thing war is good for." Crowley had said once "Is getting me commendations from the head office." He might have hated wars but he wasn't above taking credit for starting them.

If anyone down below knew what Crowley actually got himself up to most of the time when a war was going on, he'd be in a great lot of trouble indeed. He might not have been able to save adults because that was far too noticeable downstairs, but he could definitely save as many kids as possible. Nobody messed with kids when Crowley was around. He was pretty sure it was because there was more angel left in him than there'd been in other demons, but he'd never admit that. Especially not to Aziraphale. Since Crowley hadn't actually fallen he assumed that he kept a bit of his divinity hidden somewhere deep down inside. Had to be it.

Crowley quite often found himself in dangerous situations when it came to saving kids. In this particular instance he was in a village in the middle of nowhere in Vietnam. Why the Americans had managed to get themselves involved in this, he wasn't sure. They'd definitely made things worse, though. There was a lot of bad going on before they got there but they certainly didn't make it any better. Crowley had originally planned to just go on through to the next major city but then he saw the kids running across the street obviously terrified. He'd heard them crying, could practically smell their fear. He had to stop. To do something. 

To blend in with the whole situation he'd been driving a rather large truck and he was very glad that had been the case at that moment. He stopped the truck and went to the door of the hut. He might not have been able to speak their language but he did have the ability to let them know that he was a friend, he was there to help them. 

It'd taken some doing but he'd managed to convince the older kids that he really did want to help them escape the bombs and the shooting. The younger kids didn't understand what was going on, it was just very loud and very scary and the big kids were handling it. Crowley started to load them one by one into the truck as quickly as possible. 

He'd heard the men coming before he saw them. He just ignored the noises and kept loading kids. There were quite a few more than he'd originally thought. It was like watching a clown car unload as child after child came out of the hut. The noises kept getting closer. Ignore the soldiers and help the kids. He kept saying it in his head. 

"You there, stop!" Ah yes, American accent. Because helping children was so wrong. Crowley didn't listen. Just kept on until the last child was in the truck. There'd been no real conviction in the man's voice as he ordered Crowley to stop what he was doing so he figured the orders wouldn't be enforced. Another one of the soldiers, though, had different ideas. Just as Crowley closed up the truck and made sure all of the kids were secure, there was the loud pop of a rifle and a sharp pain in his back. He just ignored it and kept going. He'd be fine. Crowley got into the truck and drove off, he wasn't surprised when the soldiers didn't try to follow. 

Aziraphale hadn't been sent to Vietnam, he'd volunteered to go. There were soldiers that needed healing and people that needed saving. It was part of his job as an angel. He just wanted to do what he could to keep a few more people's faith in tact. Miraculous recoveries on the battle field tended to bring more people to the light and that was a good thing. So he went around and healed those that he could. The ones that were too far gone were given a little prayer and some help along the way. More of them were heading upward than he realized. 

A large truck came barreling down the dirt road that ran through the field he was currently in. It seemed to be a little bit out of control. The driver had to be injured, Aziraphale thought. At one particularly sharp turn Aziraphale heard the shrieks of the kids in the back. A truck full of children? What was going on? It only took a small miracle to get to truck to stop in a safe manner and he made his way to the back. 

"He hurt." One of the children said to Aziraphale. He appeared to be the oldest of the bunch and those two words were a majority of the English the child knew. He must have spent time around soldiers. The little boy was pointing to the front of the truck. He'd seen the man get shot and thought that they were not going to be saved, but the man kept going anyway. 

"I'll help him." Aziraphale smiled and made sure that all of the kids felt safe. He really hoped that the soldier was a good person and not taking these kids to something Aziraphale didn't even want to think about. He went around to the front of the truck and opened the driver door. 

"Crowley!" Aziraphale gasped as he saw the demon sitting in the truck and leaning a bit over the steering wheel. 

"Aziraphale...." Crowley said weakly. He coughed and a bit of blood came out of the corner of his mouth. It wasn't red like human blood, but black like the blood of the demon he was. 

"What happened? Why didn't you heal yourself?" He started searching for the wounds. 

"Had to keep them safe." Crowley looked toward the back of the truck. That was when Aziraphale noticed the myriad of holes in the canopy of the truck. Bullets that somehow hit the truck but not the children. 

"They're safe now, Crowley. Come on." He pulled Crowley out of the truck and lay him on the ground. 

"They're safe." Crowley said hoarsely. He coughed again and more blood came up. This was very not good. He was most certainly on the verge of discorporation. 

"Just relax, Crowley. You're very seriously hurt." Aziraphale kept searching for the wound. 

"Very well aware of that, angel." He closed his eyes and shifted a little to make it easier for Aziraphale to find where the bullet had gone in. Just under his lung, probably caused some damage. 

"You'll be fine, though." Aziraphale finally found the entry wound and put his hand over it. An angel healing a demon, this was new. He wasn't sure if it would make things worse or better but he had to try. 

Crowley cried out as Aziraphale started to heal him. It hurt a lot and he wasn't sure why. Probably the divinity mixing in with his demonness. It wasn't killing him, though. It wasn't causing him the same problems that holy water would. It just hurt a lot more than healing usually did. 

A tear rolled down Aziraphale's cheek as he worked. He hated that he was causing Crowley so much pain but the other option was letting him discorporate and he certainly couldn't do that. It was taking a bit longer than healing a human would, though. Crowley gave one finaly scream of absolute agony before he finally seemed to relax. 

"Never...." He started between panted breaths. "Never.....do that again." He looked at Aziraphale. Crowley was certain if it were possible, he'd have a scar from all of this. He felt like there was that much more angel somewhere deep down because of it. 

"I couldn't let you die, Crowley." Aziraphale said as he reached up to wipe at his eye. 

"Well....from now on I'll make sure that doesn't happen." He reached a hand up and wiped some of the blood from the corner of his mouth. Crowley managed to get to his feet on shaky legs. The healing had taken quite a bit out of him. He knew it had to have done something to Aziraphale as well. None of that mattered, though. They had to get the kids out of there. 

They both got into the truck and drove to the nearest major city that wasn't anywhere near the combat zone. There was a nice, Catholic orphanage there that Aziraphale knew about. He trusted the nuns that ran it. They dropped the truckload of kids off as well as a rather large and mysterious donation before driving away. 

"You tell anyone about any of this and I will discorporate you without a second thought." Crowley said as he drove, eyes staying firmly on the road. 

"I'm sure I have no idea of what you're speaking, Crowley." Aziraphale also kept his eyes on the road, a little smile turning up the corner of his mouth. Crowley just nodded and tried to hide a smile of his own.


End file.
